


So Let Me Stop and Say Hello

by buckysbears (DrZebra)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, aka daisy is a giant dork, and jemma can get it, bobbi secretly knows everyone who's anyone, bus kids being the bus kids, weird flirting ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrZebra/pseuds/buckysbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Bobbi sent an Avenger to check in on the team, and one time she came herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Let Me Stop and Say Hello

**Author's Note:**

> where does this take place on the aos or mcu timeline?? who Cares, my pal

1.  
Jemma feels that, under the circumstances, her undignified squeak is rather justified. It's been a long day and she wasn't expecting there to be a figure sitting in the middle of her bed when she'd shuffled in at 3 in the morning, and the bright hair immediately tells her it isn't Daisy. The stranger keeps flipping through her photo album, undisturbed, completely ignoring the entrance of the owner of said album, and Jemma's indignation flames in her chest as the momentary panic dies down. 

"Can I help you?" She huffs, because she's honestly too tired to make a dash for the gun she has hidden in the wardrobe. Not that the stranger seems particularly hostile. Could be a fellow—drunk—agent, stumbled into the wrong room (she did remember to lock it, didn’t she?). 

The woman lifts her head to grin up at her, and Jemma knows she wouldn't have made it to the wardrobe anyway. 

"Are you here to kill me?" Jemma asks, a resolve settling behind her words. 

"That wouldn’t be very nice," says the Black Widow. 

Jemma tries to even her breathing, get her heartbeat down to a reasonable level, but it's thudding sharply against her ribs, probably loud enough to be heard across the room. "Just looking through some photos, then?" 

"Perusing," she confirms. 

"Which one's your favorite?" Jemma asks snidely. This is a woman she has great respect for, and she's always imagined them meeting under different circumstances, but breaking into her locked room in the middle of the night is downright rude and she can't help a little rudeness in return (partially to hide the fear that's seeped into her stomach). 

"This one," the Black Widow says, holding up the album and tapping a photo with her red-painted nail. A picture of Jemma when she was young, standing with her mother and father after winning first place in a science competition. "So domestic." 

"Miss Romanoff-"

"Natasha." 

"Miss Romanoff," she says again, the shape of 'Natasha' pushing uncomfortably in the back of her mouth. "Is there a reason you're here? Not that I'm not delighted for the company." 

Natasha smiles, looking for all the world like she can't keep the amusement off her face, closes the album and sets it down beside her, stretching back to lean on the headboard. "I have a message." 

"For me?"

"For the whole team." 

"So you felt it necessary to break into my room specifically." 

Natasha gives her a good up-and-down, lip pinched between her front teeth. "You seemed like the most fun to corner." 

She can't tell if Natasha is flirting with her or if she is, in fact, here to kill her. She desperately hopes it's the first option, and not entirely for the right reasons. 

Jemma smooths down her pants, fighting against the need to clear her throat. "I should go get Coulson." 

"He's lame. You should stay here and talk to me instead." 

It feels wrong turning her back on the Black Widow, but Jemma turns to leave anyway, and then pauses by the door. "Who's the message from?" she asks, because she should at least have all the information before going to Coulson with the claim that there was an Avenger in her room. 

"Bobbi." 

That has Jemma whirling around, marching up to the bed with her hands clenched at her sides, her whole body gone cold at the name. "Is she alright?" 

This smile is barely there, just a flick of the lips, but it looks more real than the last one, and it settles Jemma without her permission. "She's fine. On a beach somewhere last I saw her." 

The weight of Jemma's relief sinks her onto the bed, and she closes her eyes against the pounding of her heart. She shouldn't be so comfortable not being able to see the other woman, but if Bobbi trusts her then so does she. When she looks back Natasha has her nose scrunched up, eyes distant. 

"I just don't see why she had to bring that guy with her." 

"Lance?" It comes out almost a giggle, Jemma’s relief and Natasha's clear disdain enough to make her giddy. 

Natasha lets out a soft "ugh", and then after a moment shakes her head, pulling a folded envelope out of her pocket and handing it over. 

Jemma barely has her fingers around it before she's ripping it open, because months had been too long to wait and she's missed Bobbi fiercely. She dimly hears Natasha chuckle as she begins to read, letting herself get lost in the familiar handwriting. The letter is too short to be satisfactory, but she's on her third read-through when the chime of her phone draws her out. It's with a start that she realizes she's alone in the room, though she hadn't seen Natasha get up or heard the door. She sits in the dim light, nothing but a text and a letter to keep her company. 

_From: Natasha  
say hi to mellie for me ;)_

 

2.

The letter had been fairly simple: it’s not safe for Bobbi to check in herself, so she might send others along with messages from time to time. 

Of course, this wasn’t exactly what they’d been expecting. 

Daisy’s mouth is hanging all the way open as she rolls down the passenger side window of their black SUV, and Steve Rogers has the audacity to look abashed as he gives them a little wave. 

“Oh my god,” Daisy breathes, and May tilts her sunglasses down her nose. 

“Ladies.” He clears his throat, glancing around the parking lot. Daisy isn’t sure how he found them, but it had to be at a McDonald’s of all places. She still has a big mac clutched between her fingers. “Could I- uh. Come in?” 

The doors unlock with a pointed click, and then Steve—Captain America, Daisy’s mind is screaming—slips into the back seat. 

“Fries?” May asks, holding out the paper bag. 

“No thanks.” He takes off his baseball cap and fiddles with the clasp. “I saw this documentary about fast food and I’m still kind of traumatized.” 

May gives a neutral hum and Daisy has to keep herself from vibrating the whole car. 

“I have a message from Bobbi Morse.” 

“You know Bobbi?” Daisy asks, no small amount of incredulity and jealousy in her voice. 

“We’ve met a few times. She seems like a nice enough woman, but I’m mostly doing this as a favor. I was in the area.” 

“Right. Sorry.” Daisy shakes herself, trying to readjust her priorities. “Is she okay? She’s not in trouble, is she?” 

“No, no, she’s okay. She wanted to let you know that there are three Inhumans taking refuge in San Salvador and that one of them seems like a good fit for the team you’re putting together.” 

Daisy freezes and shoots a nervous glance at May. “Um, about the team-“ 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Steve promises, giving her a little smile that ricochets through her rib cage. “I think it’s a good thing. Gives people a chance they didn’t have before, a chance to do good. Be a part of something bigger.” 

“T-Thanks,” she stutters, and then crams a fry into her mouth for lack of a better option. 

Steve glances at his watch and then pulls a slip of paper from his jacket pocket, handing it over to May. “I actually have to get going, but here are the coordinates for the Inhumans.” He pulls the cap back onto his head and gives them a firm nod. “Keep up the good work, ladies.” 

May smirks. “Aye aye captain.” 

It isn’t until Steve is halfway through the parking lot that Daisy gets her wits about her enough to roll down the window again. “Hey wait, can I have your autograph?” 

 

3\. 

There’s been a man staring at him for the last half hour, and Fitz wouldn’t be so unnerved except for the fact that in that time the man has eaten no less than three hot dogs, double fisting it the entire way. He picks his soda up off the ground and gives it a particularly loud slurp, and Fitz’s tools clatter to the ground as he huffs. 

“Doin’ okay Turbo?” Mack asks him, looking up from the remnants of another Watchdogs attack. 

“There’s just-“ Fitz squints against the sun and then rubs his hand over his eyes, a headache pressing behind his temples. “There’s been a man staring at us this whole time and I can’t tell if he’s suspicious or just really gross.” 

“Gross?” 

Mack follows his outstretched finger until he spots the man, who salutes in greeting. “Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.” 

“What, do you know him?” 

“Unfortunately. Come on, Turbo.” 

Fitz follows him cautiously, and Mack crosses his arms as they approach the blond man, who upon closer inspection looks like he’s just stumbled out of a bar fight. 

“Long time no see, big guy.” 

“Don’t give me that, Barton.” 

“Wait, Barton? Clint Barton? As in Hawkeye?” Fitz asks, blinking owlishly. 

“At your service,” Clint says, and holds out a hand to shake. After a few seconds of stillness he pulls it back, eyeing the ketchup smeared onto his fingers, and pops two of them in his mouth. 

Fitz wouldn’t exactly say he was jealous of the others, getting to meet Avengers. But, well, he’ll take what he can get. 

“Cut to the chase, what are you doing here? The Avengers suddenly interested in the Watchdogs or something?” Mack’s arms are bulging more than usual, and Fitz wonders what past there is here that he’s being left out of. 

“Lighten up, Mackenzie,” Clint drawls, wiping his hand off on his torn jeans. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. How are you, man? How’re the kids?” 

“I don’t have kids.” 

“Are you sure?” For his part, Clint sounds genuinely confused. “I coulda swore … Didn’t you have the, you know?” He gestures just above knee height. “The little twin girls?” 

“Nope.” 

Clint scratches at the back of his head, and then snaps his fingers, mouth popping into an ‘o’. “Damn you know what, you’re right, I’m thinking of the guy from Brooklyn Nine-Nine.” 

“Are you here on Avengers business?” Fitz asks, because his perception of what the Avengers do is quickly plummeting. 

“Nah, just a personal errand. Hey, I don’t think I caught your name.” 

“Leo Fitz.” He holds out his hand on instinct, and then quickly shoves it into his pocket instead. 

“The engineer!” 

“You know me?” 

Clint grins. “Ah yeah, I know all you guys. Bobbi talks you up a lot.” 

“Bobbi sent you?” Fitz chimes, not managing to keep the elation out of his voice. 

“Yeah, she just wanted to check up. See how everyone was doing.” 

“Oh.” Fitz droops a little, wringing his hands. “You don’t have a message from her?” 

Clint gapes for a second, a long ‘uuhhh’ drawing from his open mouth. “Well, I mean, you know, she’s doing well. Misses you guys a lot.” 

Fitz nods, and Mack lets out a soft grunt. “Yeah we miss her too.” 

“I can, um,” Fitz gestures back toward the wreckage from the attack, “give you an update on everyone, but I gotta keep working.” 

“Don’t let me get in your way, man.” 

Fitz pulls aside the yellow tape to allow Clint to duck under, and they walk back toward the collapsed building. 

“So how do you know Bobbi, anyway?” Fitz asks. 

Clint lets out a loud bark of laughter, grinning widely. “Oh, we go way back.” 

 

4\. 

They’re up in the jet, so they really aren’t expecting visitors, but the screen clearly shows a small craft getting closer to them, and they’re able to make something out coming in just above the horizon. They’re getting ready to put the jet on lockdown and prepare for an in-flight battle when Fitz zooms in the cameras as the craft approaches, and as they clear Daisy lets out an excited gasp. 

“Oh holy shit it’s the Falcon.” 

“What,” is all Lincoln manages. 

“We don’t know that’s him, it could be a hostile.” 

“Don’t be silly, Fitz, that’s clearly him,” Jemma says. “I know you recognize the suit at least. But look at his face, he’s so handsome, that looks just like him.” 

“He’s not that handsome,” Fitz gripes. 

Daisy laughs, moving to run to the landing deck. “He is and you know it.” 

Fitz and Lincoln share a look but follow them outside anyway, just as the Falcon makes his approach and lands gracefully on the tarmac. He takes a moment to fold in his wings and then lifts the goggles off of his eyes and onto his head, running a hand over his short hair. 

“Wait a minute.” He shoots them a blinding grin. “This isn’t the party bus.” 

“It can be if you want.” Daisy’s face looks downright predatory, and Lincoln smacks her arm.

“Are you really the Falcon?” Fitz asks, lingering doubt in his tone. 

“Well for today I’m the Passenger Pigeon.” He laughs, and then tugs a small rucksack off of his back. “I have a few letters here from a certain Barbara Morse. 

“More than one?” Jemma asks, eyes wide. 

“She seems pretty fond of you guys, writing letters for each of you. I don’t even write letters to my grandma.” He pulls a bundle of envelopes out of the sack and starts flipping through them. “Trying to teach her how to Skype, you know, but it’s not going too well.” He finds the envelope he’s looking for and holds it up triumphantly. “Now you must be Daisy, right?” 

Daisy opens her mouth and then promptly snaps it shut at Lincoln’s look. She clears her throat and nods, taking the envelope. “That’s me.” 

“Which would make you Jemma?” 

“Yes, thank you.” Jemma takes her letter and barely manages not to rip it open right there. 

Sam gives Fitz a searching look. “You’re obviously the grumpy one, which would make you Fitz.” 

“I-“ He sighs, giving up on defending himself, and just takes the envelope. 

“And you-“ Sam flips through the last of the remaining letters and then looks apologetically at Lincoln. “Um. I wouldn’t suppose you were a big black dude named Mack?” 

“No, but I’ve been told the resemblance is uncanny.” Lincoln shrugs. “It’s okay, we weren’t that close.” 

Sam nods, and hands him the rest of the envelopes, each labeled in Bobbi’s best cursive on the fronts. “Well then you get to hold on to the rest of them.” 

“Yipee,” Lincoln says, and shoves them in his back pocket. 

“Are you hungry?” Jemma asks, hopeful. “We were just about to make dinner.” 

“I wish I could stay,” Sam says, and sounds like he means it, “but I have also been tasked with picking up takeout on my way back to the team.” 

“Maybe another time?” 

“Raincheck,” he confirms, and shoots her a wink. Fitz rolls his eyes. 

Sam slips his goggles back on and then takes a running leap off the side of the jet. They all rush to the edge to watch as his wings unfurl and he flips through the air. 

“What a showoff,” Fitz grumbles. 

“Oh you are so jealous.” Daisy grins. 

“I am not! I’m not jealous. Flying is a stupid power anyway-“

“Jealous.”

“-and if a suit like that gets damaged you’re useless-“ 

“Jealous,” Daisy sings, and the sound of arguing follows them all the way back into the jet. 

 

5\. 

“Sir, I really think you should come down here.” 

Coulson sighs and shuffles his paperwork, not really changing the order or the placement but just shuffling to shuffle, and then presses the button on the intercom. 

“I’m kind of busy, Agent Hernandez.” 

“Phil,” says Melinda’s voice, “get down here.” 

She doesn’t sound distressed, but then again she rarely does, so Phil slips on his jacket and makes his way out of the office and down to the front entrance of the base. There’s a small crowd gathered there, but it’s strangely silent, and Phil has a bad feeling in his gut. 

“May? What’s-” The crowd parts before him and the rest of his sentence dies in his throat. 

“Sorry for dropping in,” mumbles Bucky Barnes, who’s standing before him in the flesh, in dirty jeans and a hoodie. Behind him are three younger girls, triplets by the look of them, who are just as dirty as he is, clung together behind his wide frame. 

The rest of the team comes to Phil’s side, glancing at him, waiting for him to make a move. 

“Sargent Barnes,” he breaths, raising a hand to shake. “It is an honor to meet you.” 

“Oh, um.” Bucky grabs his hand, giving it a cautious shake, grip soft. “Thanks.” He pulls back and clears his throat, brushing the hair away from his eyes with a gloved hand. He’s not really looking at any of them, mostly staring at the floor and glancing around nervously. 

“Okay, nothing to see here, back to what you were doing.” Phil calls out, and the crowd grudgingly disperses, whispers already starting among them. Bucky slumps a little as they leave. 

“What can we do for you Sargent Barnes?” May asks, giving a careful glance at the girls standing behind him. 

“I- um.” He gestures at the girls. “A woman named Bobbi Morse told me they’d be safe here.” 

“Are they Inhumans?” Daisy asks, and Bucky gives a hesitant nod. 

Jemma steps forward. “Are any of you hurt?” she asks directly to the girls, who look like they can’t be older than 15. 

One of them shifts to reveal a nasty cut on her arm and Jemma steps forward again, only to be blocked by Bucky, who is much bigger than he seemed even a few seconds ago. 

“I’m a doctor,” Jemma tells him, and he stares resolutely back. “I just want to get that cut cleaned up and make sure they’re otherwise okay. If they’re to be staying here then I’ll be the one taking care of them.” 

Bucky shift, fists clenching, and Jemma doesn’t look away from his face. “What’s your name?” 

“Jemma Simmons.” 

After a few moments of silence Bucky nods, deflating a little. “Take care of them, Jemma, they’ve been through a lot.” 

“I promise,” she says, and then moves around him to usher the girls toward the med bay. 

They all watch them disappear into the corridor, Bucky chewing nervously on his lip. His arm is making little whirring sounds as he clenches and unclenches and Phil can feel Fitz perk up next to him. 

“Where did they come from?” May asks. 

“Trafficking. Miss Morse gave us the tip, but she couldn’t come herself. Said this was the best place to bring them. Steve is dealing with the rest of the guys, making sure they’re put away.” 

“We’ll take good care of them, Sargent Barnes,” Daisy says. “They’ll be with other Inhumans here, and we can make sure they know how to control their powers so no one gets hurt. They’ll be safe.” 

Bucky nods, and rubs a bit of his frayed jeans between his fingers. “You can just call me Bucky.” 

“Okay,” says Daisy, looking suspiciously like she might pass out. She takes a deep breath and then beams. “Bucky.” 

 

+1 

"Daisy, we have to keep moving," Jemma stresses, trying not to groan as her friend's weight drags down on her shoulders. She feels Fitz's hand brush her hip as he readjusts his grip, hooking his thumb through Daisy's belt loop. 

"I'm so dizzy," Daisy murmurs. 

"Is her voice starting to slur?" Fitz asks, a note of anxiety in his tone. He glances down at Daisy's leg, the shininess that drips down around her thigh. "She's loosing a lot of blood." 

"We need to get out of these damn woods," Jemma says, and then raises her free arm to fire off a few rounds at some Hydra agents about twenty yards in front of them. The Icer rounds hit them square in the chest, and they both drop. "But I don't know where the hell we are. If we could find a road ..." 

Daisy lets out a pained groan and then droops, dragging Fitzsimmons to a startled stop. 

"Daisy?" Fitz calls, trying to hunch over and get a look at her face. "No no no- Daisy."

"You have to stay awake," Jemma begs. 

Neither of them get a response, so they stop next to a broad tree and prop Daisy up against it, holding her as she sways and gently lowering her to the ground. Her eyes are closed, but her face is twitching in pain. 

"Daisy." Jemma cups her face between her palms. "Nod if you can hear me. You don't have to open your eyes, just nod." She feels a bit of moment and sighs in relief. "Okay. Just hold tight. Maybe ... Fitz, I can take the backpack, can you carry her?" They're already exhausted, but don't have much of a choice. 

Daisy blinks her eyes open, and a tiny smile pulls at her lips. "Bobbi can do it." 

"Need some help?" 

Fitz and Jemma whip around and there stands Bobbi, donned in her tac suit, smile on her face, breeze twirling her hair behind her. The sun setting behind her casts a halo around her head, and Jemma almost bursts into tears right there. Fitz jumps up, one hand outstretched. 

"How are you here?" he asks, pulling his arm back to his side. 

"A little birdie told me you guys were in trouble. Couldn't stand by and not help out." After a moment she reaches out to pull Fitz into a hug, and he slumps gratefully against her. As he draws back she leans down next to Jemma, resting a hand each on Daisy's good leg and Jemma's shoulder. "How ya doing, rockstar?" 

Daisy laughs, pitifully, almost a cough. "Better now." 

"You came back," Jemma breathes, trying to swallow down a lump in her throat. 

"Yeah." Bobbi smiles, a few tears shining in her eyes. "Yeah, always will." 

Jemma nods, wipes her face, and then anxiously begins running her fingers through Daisy's hair. "She's lost a lot of blood. I've dressed the wound, but I don't have any other supplies, and there's still Hydra agents running around." 

"All our tech is broken and we don't know where evac is. And we got separated from the team," Fitz adds. 

"I know the way back to the main road. I have Hunter waiting there with a car. Come on, help me get her up." 

The three of them work to get Daisy settled on Bobbi's back, and Daisy links her arms around Bobbi's neck, clings on with her one good leg, and lets her head rest on her shoulder. They trek through the woods, Fitz leading and Jemma bringing up the rear, occasionally Icing Hydra agents. Daisy tells stories to try and keep herself awake, but by the time night falls they've gotten less cohesive, and her words harder to understand. Eventually she peters off, words slowing to a stop, and Bobbi stops with them. 

"Daisy?" She bounces her a little, trying to get a reaction. "Hey Daisy, come on, you gotta wake up for me." 

Jemma jumps forward and places her fingers on Daisy's neck, slumping when she finds her pulse, beating solidly against her fingers. "She just fell asleep. But we really need to hurry, can you run with her on your back?" 

"Yeah, it's not much further, let's go." 

They take off as fast as they can through the trees, and it only takes fifteen more minutes before they find the road, and a minute more before Hunter pulls up next to them. 

"Someone call for a lift?" 

They arrange Daisy in the backseat, her head cradled against Fitz's chest, Jemma putting steady pressure on the bullet hole in her leg, and Hunter takes off down the road. 

Jemma's heart is still thudding, but the day is settling down around her shoulders and she practically melts into her seat. "It's kind of sad how much I've missed you two." 

Hunter grins at her in the rear view mirror. "Believe me, princess, the feeling's mutual." 

The car is silent, save for the gravel beneath the tires, until Fitz scoffs dramatically. "I can't believe you didn't tell us you know Avengers." 

"Did I never mention that?" Bobbi smirks. 

"You most certainly did not," Jemma says, "and I for one feel like we deserve the full story now." 

"What're we talkin about?" Daisy mumbles, eyes still closed. 

Fitz brushes her hair back from her face. "How Bobbi knows the Avengers." 

She hums. "Oh, okay. I can stay awake for that." 

"Good plan." 

Bobbi clears her throat, smiling even as Hunter rolls his eyes. "So I'm a newbie agent, right? Fresh out of the Academy. It's my first assignment and they send me out with this guy named _Clint_ ..."


End file.
